


Sand and Sun (glimpse into the fututre)

by Miya_Morana



Series: An Owl in the Night [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 08:57:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miya_Morana/pseuds/Miya_Morana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel takes his family on a little impromptu trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sand and Sun (glimpse into the fututre)

**Author's Note:**

> Set several years in the future of An Owl In The Night. Written for the 'kidfic - vacation' square of my schmoop_bingo card back in 2010.

The sand is soft under Sam’s bare feet as he walks on the beach, his arm wrapped around Gabriel’s shoulders. Carys is running ahead of them, laughing as the wind wipes her skirt against her legs. Her long brown hair is flying around her head, and she laughs when a wave wets her tiny feet.

Even after six years, sometimes, Sam still can’t quite believe she’s really theirs. Their daughter.

He can see himself in her, in her smile and in the way she loves learning new things. She’s her teacher’s favorite, already. But there’s a lot of Gabriel in her too. It’s not so much in her features, though she did inherit the beautiful eyes of Gabriel’s vessel. 

It’s in the way she likes to play small tricks on people –nothing mean, they’ve had _that_ conversation already– and in the way her emotions radiate out of her, strong and unconditional. Her temper is terrifying, but her joy is so beautiful and communicative.

Carys picks up something in the sand, looks at it, then runs back to them. She stops in front of Sam, holds her small hand out to him.

“Look what I found Daddy!”

Her voice is like a hundred of tiny bells, clear and almost celestial. There’s a shell in the palm of her hand, white and purple and glistening. 

“It’s beautiful sweetie,” Sam says, grouching down to be level with her. 

She gives it to him, then throw her arms around his neck. Sam stands up, hoisting her up in the process and she laughs.

“Let me down,” she complains through her giggles, “I’m not a baby!”

“You’ll always be our baby girl, love,” Gabriel chimes in, ruffling her hair.

She sticks her tongue at him, and Gabriel laughs. Sam lowers his daughter down and she scampers off ahead again, running in the soft waves. Gabriel’s arm wraps around Sam’s waist as they set off after her.

“Our own little miracle,” the archangel breathes as he follows Carys with his eyes. Then, “I think the sun is giving her freckles.”

“I noticed,” Sam says, wrapping his arm back around Gabriel’s shoulders with a smile. “It suits her.”

There’s a bright yellow bird flying over Carys’ head, and the little girl holds out her hand towards it. The bird circles around her a few times before landing on her outstretched fingers.

“What kind of bird is that?” Sam asks as they get closer to their daughter. She’s making high-pitched ‘tzit’ sounds, and the bird sings back to her.

“Yellowhammer,” Gabriel says, like it doesn’t matter at all. Like it wasn’t a bird that you absolutely do not find on the American continent. 

Sam shakes his head, but doesn’t ask where they are. Gabriel never tells him where he zaps them to on their impromptu vacation trips, he lets Sam guess for himself. It’s one of the archangel’s little mind-games that Sam doesn’t mind playing.

The sun is too bright and the trees are too green for the month of October anyways, so Sam has an idea of where they might be.

Carys pets the yellowhammer’s head, then the bird stretches its wings and takes flight just as Sam and Gabriel arrive. She looks up to them, her eyes reflecting the sunlight, and stretches her arms to Gabriel.

The archangel hoists the little girl up and she kisses him on the cheek, loudly. As Sam watches his family laugh under the sun, he thinks that this, right there, must be what happiness feels like.


End file.
